Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Be sure to rinse thoroughly

Rosetti hair  For some unknown blasphemous reason, Herthusalia, the Greek goddess of bad hair cuts and hair days has visited her wrath upon me.  I don’t know how I might have offended her.  It might have been my random experiments with various shampoos, my inability to commit to one brush, an over use of rubber bands and hair pins, or perhaps my refusal to commit to one specific hair dresser.  Ever since I left the kind and malleable hands of my hair dresser in Michigan, it’s been as if I was the one who shot the albatross.  It now hangs around my neck and shoulders in the form of an overgrown mullet. She_Mullet-Wig 

It wasn’t until today, after I washed and dried my hair that I realized how horrible the mullet was.  From the corner of my eye, as I walked past mirror, a horror filled moment of déjà vu sent me back to the eighties when I insisted upon having the same hairdo as my friend Renee.  pretty_in_pink_soundtrack My mom took my sister and I to the beauty school where the unthinkable was performed on our heads.  The style didn’t last too long as I soon admired my friend Peggy’s hair cut which was one of those mushroom cuts, the kind you now see on really old people and are died a light powdery blue or airy lavender. 

Stacy-London-med I guess that makes me a trend follower, or did.  Because, from my current do, it’s obvious that I don’t, unless I count biker dudes and dudetts as my most stylistically admired set of friends.  If I could truly manage it, of all people’s hair that I, as an adult, would imitate, it would be Stacey London, minus the grey streak.  Actually, I’d take the grey streak if it meant I could have super powers.

Monday, April 27, 2009

The Dancing Queen!

disco

There are moments in everyone's life when some thing, or some incident, has "how embarrassing" written all over it in red Sharpie ink.  For me, even the mention of the word "disco" leeks with temporary, high-inducing blots and scribbles.  It is one of those music/dance genres (and eras) that make me blush just thinking about.  At this very moment I am basking in my embarrassment to the glittering beat of ABBA. 

saturday_night_fever Though I'm embarrassed about it, as well as for all those who found themselves trapped in its decade and on its dance floor making Travolta-esque moves, I will still continue to listen.  The one thing you will not see, even if you live to the ripe old age of Methuselah, is me dancing publically to said music genre.  

My confession today is that I do actually dance to this kind of music but, like the sighting of the Loch ness monster, this sight will only be a thing of legend and fairytales in which the imagination will have to paint its own nightmarish picture.  For in these impulsive moments, all blinds, curtains, gaps, and doors will be tightly sealed, blocking any eye curious or crazy enough to attempt a peak at my embarrassment.   I’m not exactly sure why this dance form brings out my Victorian prudery.  It just might be the obvious freedom, and particularly immodest tendency, to exhibit certain traditionally gartered body parts.  Parts that no longer have bras or others that no longer need to breath.  Anyway, I’m starting to blush again, so I’d best go hide in shame or lock up the house and don my platforms, feather my hair, and squeeze into my pink sequins embroidered jumpsuit. (I’m sorry if any of you are experiencing cyber nausea at the moment, really). Sharpie-Red

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Male/Female relationships according to Douglas

lightning bugs

“Did you know that there are lightning bugs (or Fireflies) in Utah? The reason they don’t glow is because they’re all males.  Only the females have bottoms that light up.”

Chris and I wondered where baby lightening bugs came from if all the males really are in Utah.  So Douglas, where do babies come from if all the girl lightening bugs were left in Michigan?  If I’d known I wasn’t so out numbered while living in Michigan in the male/female ratio department, I would have adopted a few of those lightning bugs and dressed them in pink.  I never have anyone who will let me dress them in pink.

“I know why they call boys, males and girls, females.  It’s because the men always get the mail, and the girls always get the fees.”

That’s how it is in our home.  I seem to be the one with the check book powers and therefore the receiver of all of the fees/bills.  Chris just gets the mail because I forget to most days. 

“Why do people say male twice whey they say mail man?”

I didn’t feel like I needed to mention what it would mean if it was called a “femail man”.  No, best not to step on that slippery slope.

Reed just listened to this lesson on gender differentiations and came out, somehow, knowing that the male penguins incubate the eggs, not the females.  Anyway, that’s my life this weekend in an eggshell, nutshell, conch shell, seashell, or a fe-shell.

**see link to fireflies for further details.  The European female firefly actually does glow brighter than the male.  There’s also a type of female firefly that attracts mates and then eats them.  They call her the “femme fatale” firefly**

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

“Aaaawwwwwoooooo!!!”

gray_wolf Okay, I couldn’t help it, I had to share with you a photo of the wolf pack for New Moon.  It just had to be done and I  must say, they chose wisely.  This is only 4 of them, so we’re missing at least 2 for this film and then a couple more for Eclipse.  As I said, “Aaaawwwwwoooooo!!!” 

Wolves

Anyway, I am a married woman and will restrain myself from further elaboration, thus leaving all comments to be made by each viewer alone.  From an artistic point of view, I think Mr. Michelangelo would have asked for these dudes to stand still while he made space for them on someone’s ceiling. 

Friday, April 17, 2009

Pease Porridge Hot!

“What year was it when you were seven?  What year was it when you were one?  Did you wear a bonnet when you were little?”

1983.  1977. No!

These were all questioned posed to me this afternoon by Douglas the Inquisitor.  Curious now, I asked him some questions just to see how old he really saw me and Chris. 

bonnet3

top hat

“If I wore a bonnet, what kind of hat did daddy where?  How did we travel when I was little?  What did we eat when I was a kid?”

Top hat (“one of those tall round ones that are black with a line at the bottom”).  Model T. (“one of those black ones that Henry Ford made).  “Porridge, nine days old.”

Model T 1912 At least I’m not still in the Stone Age as was previously thought.  Well, it’s 6 in the evening now, so I guess it’s time for me to get my bonnet on, go out back to kill a chicken, get the porridge heating up again (it’s 10 days old now), and look outside to see if Chris has rolled into the driveway in his old Ford P.O.S.!

porridge oats largeThey’ll never notice if it’s 9 days old or instant, it’s that good!

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Two Faced Tulips

jungle1 My kitchen looks like a jungle thanks to my wishful spring purchases.  My preemptive strike at gardening was a result of some miscommunication and misinterpretation of weather patterns. Spring is a shifty character, beautiful, but cannot be trusted, especially with plants. 

red-tulip Don’t trust that those fat red tulips won’t seek to deceive even the most cunning of gardeners.  Though most bulbs might be able to survive the frost, those temperate climate tomatoes won’t.  I had my suspicions and with a little help from my source (Mr. Weather Channel  005),  I was able to spare the lives of 2 Geraniums, 2 tomato plants, 3 ranunculus, and a fichus, the last of which is to be a permanent house guest. 

I will continue undaunted in my fight for the return of a more stable and honest Spring.  In fact, as an act of faith in the season’s ability to repent of its lack of commitment to warmth and sun tans, I will continue to play in the dirt.  Though I might only invest my energy into the pulling of weeds, it will at least prove that I’m serious while I endure the snow and rain and continue to wait for the return of warmer weather.  If a sacrifice is required, I might be willing to throw one of my geraniums onto the trampoline which at the moment is performing the role of a mighty ice alter. 

Monday, April 13, 2009

Benefits of Bunnies and Bitamins

IMG_2237 [800x600]

At the last minute I remembered that traditionally people have an Easter dinner for the holiday.  Ever since I’ve been a grown up (I think I’m one of those) it’s hard to remember those things without other family around to celebrate it with.  I remember it being really scary the first time I had to make a turkey and it wasn’t even a whole one.  This year, I remembered to buy a ham only because I happen to be walking in that section of the grocery store.  Well, I cooked it, we had potato salad (gotta use up those boiled eggs), rolls, and pineapple. 

I didn’t realize what meat-a-vours my kids were until I saw them gobbling up the ham.  As it is with every meal, we have to stress the benefit of each item on their plate, especially the ones they won’t eat.  They have finally gotten down the benefit of protein.  Because they are growing they have started a level of competitiveness, that being “who has the biggest muscles” contests, and protein is now their ally.  Their minds are always going as I’m sure any observer of children has noticed.  Reed, no doubt, was thinking about how his food helped him when he brought up the next topic of conversation.

Reed:   I know where all the left over food goes that doesn’t go to your body.

Mom:  Let’s talk about this after we eat, okay?

Reed:  No, let me tell you, it goes…(no need to explain the details of his understanding of the intestinal tract).

Mom & Dad:  Stop, please.  We don’t talk about that kind of stuff at the table.  (Reed continues to talk about it, not getting the hints that started gently and have grown to threatening).

Finally, he comes to the end of his biology lesson, after which mom reverts to how things were done when she was a kid (along the lines of “there are starving people in China”, and people used to never talk about intestines at the table, and they also used to wear their shirts.  And for that matter, they never brought their guns and knives to the table either).

Mom:  If you had done that at grandma H.,s house you would have been in big trouble.  She would have made you leave the table. (Reed now feeling defensive over his lesson, started making an I’m shocked-you-could-even-think-that face).

Douglas, as usual, on Reed’s side of the argument where all things bodily are involved said:

Douglas:  (in an indignant tone he asked) Why?  Grandma talks about that all the time?

He was referring to my mom, their grandma H., not my dad’s mom, my grandma H.  Yes, their grandma, my mom, is very open about subjects concerning biology.  We can make excuses for her by saying she was a nurse and that’s why she’s gotten used to discussing such subjects openly.  Perhaps this can be my new technique in encouraging them to go to medical school and becoming doctors.  “You can talk about that subject as much as you want if you become a doctor, but until that day, you’ll have to keep table conversation to benign subjects such as the weather and geography.”  Though, even those subjects, unbelievably, can turn onto roads less dignified.

Here are a few pictures from Easter, pre-sugar shock and crash.  They’re just so cute!  Yes, I can say that, besides it’s true.  Honesty is always the best policy.

IMG_2240 [800x600] It’s so bright out here!

IMG_2247 [800x600]  IMG_2248 [800x600]

IMG_2250 [800x600]

IMG_2252 [800x600]

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

My Ginsu knife is bigger than yours.

Pride-and-Prejudice--2005 I am truly a wicked person.  When I happen to want a moment by myself there is one phrase I can utter that will send my kids running down the hall, weeping, whaling, and gnawing on the carpet.  It goes like this, “Hmmm…I think I’m going to sit down and watch Pride and Prejudice.” 

 Statue_of_Liberty“The horror!”  “Oh the humanity!”  “[Dang] them all to [heck]!”  “Rosebud.” and “Soylent Green is people!” can almost all be heard sung in wretched harmony, after such an announcement.  It is this simple phrase that not only gets me a moment of solitary peace, but chromosomal verification that I truly do live in a house full of boys.

I’ve reached an impasse, as Edward would say, in the case of Twilight.  I thought for sure, the mention of watching this newly acquired film, would be just one more weapon in my arsenal of fear-causing sentences.  I was wrong.  As I’ve mentioned before, I did let my boys watch it with me when we bought it, just to satisfy their curiosity and to gain a better understanding of their mother’s obsession with all things Twilight.  They understand, accept, and welcome it.  Isaac has gained a better sense of what’s right and wrong because of it. This is evident when he asks, “is he a good-pire or a bad-pire?”  Douglas shows his support as he asks which vampire is the strongest, fastest, or whatever.  Reed’s just waiting to see some werewolves.

edward-cullen_l darcy

I suppose I won’t need to hold my breath for the day that Douglas asks, “how great is Mr. Darcy’s estate?”  Or for Isaac to ask, “Who was prouder, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth?” Or for Reed to ask, “Do you think Lydia has truly ruined her family in her disregard for propriety?”  No, I don’t foresee that.  Pride and Prejudice will always hold a leverage like no other.  A weapon sharper than a Ginsu knife, and a bomb bigger than the big one.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Choose your poison

I rejoice today, for I have found something I thought I’d lost forever, my sense of taste.  My phobia of dentists is a sound fear.  I now, thanks to my apt. two weeks ago, have two pieces of evidence to back up this fear.  First, the one I’d acquired back in 2005, was a dentist’s drill bit that had to be surgically removed from my intestines, and which the removers of said bit, gave to me as a souvenir.

Robin Hood

“Take care Robin not to hit the tongue, but the gum!”

Second,  due to an aiming problem, the latest dentist shot Novocain into my tongue during my last appointment.  When I called to politely complain about it and to enquire as to wether or not this was a permenant condition, he said, “Oh!  We didn’t tell you about our new free diet plan?”  I had to try my hardest to force a polite laugh and then posed the question again, “so, when am I going to get my sense of taste back?”  He put me on hold for a moment.  I’m not sure why, unless he was checking to see if I’d signed the “I promise not to sue my dentist if he drills a hole through my tongue” clause.  He told me to just wait and see, and call him in a week if it didn’t come back.

grapes-and-cheese

Today, two weeks later, I have finally regained my sense of taste on the left side of my tongue. My favorite treat of Havarti cheese and red grapes can now be enjoyed in its fullest splendor.  I have to admit, that there was no change in the flavor of my diet coke throughout this whole episode, which, may or may not be a good thing.  I’ve noticed since I’ve been taking my small doses of iocane (or novocain, or aspartame) powder with every meal, that my enemies, instead of me, unexpectedly fall to their numbing deaths.

vicini 1

Christmas 2017- The Case of the Giggles

         “ My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, ...